Peabody's Probable Adoption Process
by Promissa Fidel
Summary: He's determined to give Sherman what he's always wanted most: a home. This is a series of drabbles surrounding Mr. Peabody and his battle for custody of Sherman. Rated K for sheer father/son cuteness.
1. The Strangest Case

**Hello to all you Warpers out there! My name's Katie and this is my first official submission to the MPAS fandom! I haven't actually posted a fanfic in years so I'm really rusty, but the feels this movie has given me are just too much to contain! Basically, this is a look into the official adoption process Peabody had to go through before adopting Sherman. If all goes as planned, this one-shot will be a series of one-shots titled _Peabody's Probable Adoption Process_, all surrounding Peabody's fight for custody of Sherman. I hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except Mrs. Norton, my OC.**

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This was the strangest case she'd ever received. And, after working as a social worker in New York City for sixteen years, Clara Norton had seen her far share of unusual cases. Her manicured nails flipped through the manila file as the taxi neared her destination, scanning the fine print for anything she might have missed. No, it was all there, it just wasn't nearly enough.

From the looks of it, this "Mr. Peabody" qualified just fine for adoption. If anything he was over-qualified. Holder of multiple-degrees, awarded humanitarian, Nobel-prize winning scientist, and in possession of several lucrative stocks, the guy seemed too good to be true. Mrs. Norton would've wondered if her co-workers were playing an incredibly elaborate trick on her had it not been for the federal agent that had come all the way from Washington D.C. a week ago to give her this case.

"Please understand Mrs. Norton that this case is very unique and, as such, certain measures must be taken into effect for the sake of providing a clean-cut court case."

"I don't see how this justifies such a significant lack of personal information." She'd replied, scanning the files she'd been given. "No birth certificate, driver's license, heath statements, not even a picture. I'm sorry sir but I can't qualify this man as a candidate for adoption."

"Please Mrs. Norton, bear with us," prompted the agent. "This is a highly unusual case and the court felt that a double blind interview would produce the fairest results." God only knows what he'd meant by that. "You'll receive the rest of the personal information after you mean with the client."

Well inevitably her curiousity had gotten the best of her and Mrs. Norton had reluctantly agreed. Absently-mindedly adjusting her reading glasses, the middle aged woman flipped through the files for a final time before admitting defeat and stuffing them back into her worn briefcase. It wasn't the information itself that bothered her, but the lack of information. She knew almost nothing of the man she was about to interview. Still, at least there was no criminal record...

"Which building is it again ma'am?" asked the driver over his shoulder. "38th an' 9th?"

"38th and 10th actually," she answered, "Now how much do I owe you?"

One transaction later, Mrs. Norton was standing at the corner of 38th and 10th, staring up one of the taller skyscrapers in the city. According to her file, Peabody lived at the top. Walking up the building's entrance, and pressing the intercom button, she waited until the speaker cracked to life, bringing with it a crisp, cultured voice. "Ah Mrs. Norton. Promptly on time I see? Splendid! Come right on up, the elevator is open."

The journey to the top of the building was not a quiet one, as questions buzzed through Mrs. Norton's head. Who on earth was this person and why all the secrecy surrounding him? As the elevator slowed to a stop, she smoothed the lapel of her jacket and tucked her reading glasses into her briefcase, determined to greet this person looking every bit the professional the state required her to be. However, as the steel doors slid open, Mrs. Norton was surprised to come face to face with the empty space of an apartment.

"Excuse me Mrs. Norton, but could you lower you gaze slightly? I'm down here." Jumping slightly at the voice, the older woman's eyes flew to its source. It was a… a…

Her mind drew a complete and utter blank. It looked like a dog but that was completely ridiculous of course. After all it was stating on two legs and wearing a suit jacket bowtie and glasses. Her mind from again, processing that last thought. Was she drunk? She didn't feel drunk, after all she'd only shared some beer with her husband last night. Dreaming maybe…

"-thought this might happen. Now I know this might be a bit shocking for you madame."

The confused haze cleared slightly as she realized it was speaking to her. Imagine that, a talking dog. "W-what…?" she managed to stutter out.

"Oh, dear" The dog muttered to himself, fiddling his bowtie nervously. "I haven't had this extreme a reaction in years. Perhaps you better sit down." He kindly gestured to the couch, taking care to give her space.

Eye's never leaving the bizarre sight in front of her; Mrs. Norton quietly made her way to the couch, legs nearly giving out underneath her as she lowered himself down. Slowly but surely her brain was starting to catch up to the rest of her. Well, she most certainly wasn't drunk and she wasn't asleep, so that only left on option.

"I assure you, Mrs. Norton, that I am real" the dog interjected, regaining some of his composure as he folded his front paws behind his back. "My name is Mr. Peabody and I am a literate canine or intelligent dog, whichever you prefer." He cleared his throat nervously before pressing on. "As I said before I thought my appearance might be a bit of a shock to you and I do apologize for that. Usually I am able to warn visitors in advance but the courts and I decided that we didn't want to contend with a preconceived bias before you even arrived. But I did prepare in advance for this sort of thing."

Turning to the coffee table, the dog poured steaming hot liquid into two mugs from an elaborately decorated Chinese tea pot she hadn't even noticed before. "Now this is a Chinese Carnation tea, wonderful for relaxing the senses and putting one's mind at ease," he informed her, holding out one of the mugs to her. Not wanting to appear rude, Mrs. Norton took it, murmuring a quick "thank you" and trying not to think too hard as to how Peabody was able to pick it up in the first place with no opposable thumbs.

"It's the most common of all the Chinese flower teas, but I think that is, in-part, due to the simplici-_tea_ of its design." He startled to chuckle at the bad pun but it died in his throat as he saw her still tense posture. "Right…" he muttered quietly to himself, taking a quick sip of the tea before setting it back down. "I apologize for my rambling Mrs. Norton. I suppose I'm just a little nervous about this home study examination. I've never done anything like this before, but I assure you Mrs. Norton that I am more than capable of being an adoptive guardian." He ended with a confident, can-do tone, but Mrs. Norton could see the anxiety etched into those green eyes.

Suddenly, something in her mind clicked back into place. Maybe it was the calming tea, or maybe it was just those eyes, that posture. Mrs. Norton had seen that hopeful uncertainty in so many of her clients. After all, it was that want and desire to care for a child that had inspired her to take this job in the first place. What stood before her was a talking dog, yes, but he was also someone who wanted a shot at adoption. Her brain could work with that, she would just have to make peace with the talking dog bit somewhere down the line.

"W-w-well that is very reassuring to hear Mr. Peabody," she started, rising from her seat and readjusting her jacket. "It's always good to see potential parents confident in their abilities." As the words continued to flow they became more reassuring as she slipped into her usual interview routine. There was nothing strange or unusual about this, she kept mentally telling herself. Peabody was just another client. "I'm just here to make sure that both you and your environment are suitable to raise a young child as defined by the State of New York."

Mr. Peabody's expression brightened at the professional tone of her voice, happy to find something he was familiar with. "I am more than happy to oblige you Mrs. Norton. You'll need to see my references of course…" He pulled a large manila envelope off the coffee table and handed it to her. "I do hope these will be satisfactory," Her eyes widened as she took in its sheer size. There had to be at least fifty pages with of recommendation sandwiched between the flimsy file and… was that a presidential seal?

"Oh and the agency said you'd also need a short auto biography, so here it is. Nothing much, just a few short words about my life and a few of my more notable accomplishments." She nearly crumpled under the weight of the fully-bound tome that had been placed on the precarious stack of references.

"Now let's see you have the references, autobiography, financial statements, and I forwarded my health statements to the agency yesterday. What else I am I missing...?" Peabody muttered to himself, the beagle bounced nervously on the balls of his paws while the Mrs. Norton was trying hard not to stagger under the enormous load of paper in her arms. "Oh yes! Where are my manners? You haven't seen the house yet." The papers nearly when flying as Peabody leap up to take her hand, pulling her along for the tour of his abode.

After an hour of being led around the tastefully furnished, penthouse by her energetic host, Mrs. Norton felt that she was slowly coming to terms with the notion of a talking dog. She also now knew more about the history of post-modern architecture and the art of feng shui than she had ever wanted to know.

"As you can see I have completely child-proofed my home, but in the event of any given emergency I can assure you I am more than equipped to handle any problem that might arise. After all, as you can clearly see in my file my EMT certification is up to date" He rambled on nervously. "All-in-all I'm sure this home will serve as an ideal learning environment for Sherman as he grows and develops-"

"Sherman?" she questioned, she hadn't recalled there being a Sherman mentioned in any of her files.

Peabody's face soon mirrored her puzzled expression. "Well I knew some information was being purposefully withheld until now but… Well never mind," he said, dismissing the thoughts with a wave of his paw. "Sherman is the young ward I wish to adopt," he explained. "Roughly five months old, he is temporarily residing at the HardRock orphanage." Peabody frowned, the word "orphanage" catching distastefully on his tongue. "But, if all goes as planned that should be rectified soon enough."

Well this case just kept getting more and more strange. Rarely did Mrs. Norton ever have a client who had already chosen the child they wished to adopt. Most of the time it was her job to select a handful of young children to see who would be the best match with her client. She made a quick mental note to try and pull up this boy's file when she arrived back to her office. As she thought this, another part of her mind reeled backwards at the implications of Peabody's request for adoption. Was it right for a dog to adopt an infant? But then, hadn't she chosen to see Mr. Peabody has just another client? Hadn't this been the point of sending her into this case blind, to be objective?

"And here is the last room of my home." Mrs. Norton returned from her troubled thoughts, turning her attention to Mr. Peabody as he pressed on with the tour, opening the last door in the hallway. "I believe this would be a suitable room for a growing boy."

Sunlight streamed through a large window, illuminating the room in a soft golden glow. In the center stood a cradle and, above it, a mobile of planets circled. The light from the window caught the spheres as they moved, casting shadows playfully into the soft rug. Mrs. Norton also noticed the vast array and variety of developmental children's toys scattered throughout the room. There were building blocks with the periodic elements printed on them, small, foam toys in the shapes of atoms and poly-decahedrons, and an activity table with all the stars and constellations written on the surface. Mrs. Norton chuckled as she noticed all the little touches of himself Peabody had given the room. She also found herself floored by his extreme foresight. If she remembered her developmental psychology correctly, Peabody had at least planned up to age 5.

"It's a bit much, I suppose" Peabody murmured softly, wringing his paws as he stepped into the room. Neurotically the beagle placed a small teething ring into a nearby plastic bin as he passed it. "I just want Sherman to have his best chance." A quiet intensity flickered in Peabody's eyes before he cleared his throat once more, his professional calm back in place. "As I was saying, I hope my home meets the state standards Mrs. Norton. Given the unprecedented nature of my court case it is imperative that I jump through all the hoops, so to speak," he chuckled humorlessly. Even Mr. Peabody couldn't cover the hint of weariness at those last few words.

Mrs. Norton's eyes softened, starting to appreciate the difficulty of Peabody's situation. Judging by her own initial reaction, Mrs. Norton surmised the courts hadn't reacted well when Peabody had first proposed his idea of adopting Sherman. "It must be difficult for you, facing all this opposition," she intoned quietly. Technically she was supposed to conduct a personal interview during the examination process and now was as good a time as ever.

Again, Peabody dismissed her concern with a wave of his paw. "It's nothing I haven't handled before Mrs. Norton. Being able to care for Sherman will be well worth any complications the courts throw at me."

She gave him a polite smile before going back through her files. "Well, Mr. Peabody we've nearly finished the first stage of your home-study examination. I would just like to ask you a few more questions."

"Oh! Of course."

Placing her files on one of the small tables, Mrs. Norton lowered her long frame into one of the pint sized chairs, gesturing for Peabody to do the same. The dog shot her a bemused look. "Wouldn't the main room be more accommodating for you Mr. Norton."

Mrs. Norton smiled politely but shook her head. "If it's all the same to you Mr. Peabody I'd rather conduct my interview in here."

Based on what she's observed, her client's wall of detached professionalism was at its weakest here. In the sixteen years she'd worked in social services, Mrs. Norton had always prided herself on being able to subtly bring out the true nature of her clients and, at times, that meant interviewing them at their most vulnerable. A child's wellbeing was Mrs. Norton's top priority, and she took this task very seriously. After all, it was up to her to deem an adoptive parent worthy of guardian ship. Sometimes, she was the only thing standing between a child and a potentially abusive household. And, if sixteen years working in social services taught her one thing, it was that a potential parent showed their true colors at their most vulnerable.

Pulling out her reading classes and notepad from the worn briefcase, Mrs. Norton casually gestured Peabody to sit. The dog obliged, sitting in another pint-sized chair, which, much to his chagrin, seemed to fit his small frame perfectly.

"Mr. Peabody, in your own words could you tell me a little bit about Sherman?" Mrs. Norton asked, interested to see what this question could reveal about her strange client.

"Ah… Well…" Peabody started, his paws nervously readjusting his glasses as he thought. Clearly this was not a question he'd been prepared for. "I suppose he's a perfectly healthy infant with a cheerful temperament. However I'd say he's a great deal more intelligent than your average baby…" The dog's eyes softened as he continued to ramble, his shoulder's relaxing visibly. "He's smart as a whip you know! He always seems to recognize me when I visit."

"You visit him?"

"Yes, I try to be at the Orphanage twice a week, Monday and Fridays mostly. I'm not allowed to stay very long unfortunately," Peabody's tone soured. "Ms. Hamish, the home supervisor, is not the most agreeable woman. But I stay as long as I'm allowed, just reading to him. He seems to enjoy the sound of my voice." Mrs. Nelson could've sworn she saw a tinge of red under Peabody's white fur as he continued. "Of course that's foolish. I've surmised Sherman to be roughly five months and that's hardly the age where a child learns object permanence. He's probably forgotten about me the minute I've left the room." Taking a moment to clear out a sudden lump in his throat, Peabody continued. "He's also got quite a grip on him. I'm not sure but I think the length of my ears has been permanently altered thanks to all of Sherman's tugging..."

Mrs. Nelson listened as Peabody rambled, occasionally taking notes here and there in her notepad. But as the canine genius continued, Mrs. Nelson was finding it harder and harder to remain objective. A real smile was rapidly replacing the polite one as her eyes crinkled with suppressed laughter. But the interview was not over yet.

"If you don't mind me asking Mr. Peabody, why are you so intent on adopting Sherman and not just any other child?"

The question stopped Peabody in his tracks, muzzle frowning in concentration. "Well, I suppose to answer that; you'd have to know how I first found Sherman. You see I'd been walking home from a meeting at the UN and it started to rain…"

The last vestiges of Mrs. Norton's objectivity were beginning to fray as Mr. Peabody told her how he'd found Sherman lost and alone in a cardboard box, how he'd rushed back to his home to feed, clean, and care for the abandoned infant, How he'd been so in over his head, and how he'd made his decision that very night:

"Come what may I was determined to adopt Sherman," The statement was so clear cut and matter-of-fact, the dog might as well been explaining the sky was blue.

Despite her shaken resolve, Mrs. Norton was determined to challenge Peabody's statement. "But are you prepared for the implications of this adoption Mr. Peabody?" She looked down across her reading glasses at him. "You said it yourself that this is a completely unprecedented case, which means it will meet with some heavy opposition." Her words were cool and matter of fact. "And I hope you realize that, if you win custody, your life _and Sherman's_ might become a media circus. Are you prepared to raise a child in these conditions?"

The space between them was dead quiet as Peabody sat deep in thought, his expression unreadable.

Now Mrs. Norton knew she was only doing her job. These were relevant questions that would inevitably need to be answered. Personally, she'd rather they be answered by her client here than in family court. However that didn't stop it from feeling a certain wave of guilt at Peabody's hunched form. In truth, he was probably a better candidate for adoption than most of her human clientele.

After a few more moments of deafening silence, Peabody finally spoke. "In truth Mrs. Norton," he started, a reluctant waver in his voice, "I don't know how this will affect Sherman in the long term or myself for that matter. Given my unique circumstances and intellect I have always been a subject of media fascination, but bringing a young boy under such scrutiny? Yes, Mrs. Norton I have thought of these implications and I'm sorry to say that I'm not certain if this is what's best for Sherman."

The older woman's eyes widened slightly, eyebrows lifting towards her hairline. There had been many words Mrs. Norton has been expecting to hear from Peabody, but "I don't know" certainly hadn't been one of them.

"But I do know this." Peabody continued unabashedly, his eyes now meeting hers with the utmost sincerity. "When I was young, what I wanted more than anything else in the world was a home. All my life I've wanted someone to want me for me." He wrung his paws together nervously but stayed his ground, maintaining eye contact. "And when I found Sherman… When Sherman found me" he amended quietly. "I looked into those eyes… and I saw myself."

He took a shuddering breath before pressing on once more. "Mrs. Norton, I don't know if I'm the right person to be Sherman's guardian, but I do know he'd be better off with me than at that orphanage. I'm willing to give him what he needs most: a home."

The silence was palpable as Peabody, doing everything in his power to stay calm watched Mrs. Norton intently as she wrote something down in her notepad. Her face was hidden in shadow as the last light of day shown through the window, the skyline of New York City a vibrant orange and pink.

There was no doubt in Peabody's mind that he blew it, botched the job, and damaged irrevocably his chances of ever adopting the child that had singlehandedly taken his heart. What kind of parental candidate openly tells a social worker that he doesn't know what he's doing?

Finally, Mrs. Norton stood up, and smoothed the creases out of her Jacket, and closed the small notebook. Then, leaning over and picking up the massive stack of files and the worn briefcase, the older woman stated simply: "Well Mr. Peabody, I believe this concludes your home study examination." Her expression was still unreadable as Peabody, led her back into the foyer, his own nerves building up faster than vinegar and sodium bicarbonate.

Finally, the silence reached its breaking point. "Mrs. Norton, I apologize if I have said anything to offend you but I can assure-" but Mrs. Norton cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand, causing the beagle to deflate.

"Mr. Peabody I have been working in social services for sixteen years, with twelve of those years spent specializing in adoptions, and I have conducted my fair share of personal interviews. I have seen many a candidate try and fail to understand what it means to be a parent. But as for you Mr. Peabody"

Peabody tried to hold himself with as much dignity he could muster in the face of defeat. But, to his surprise, Mrs. Norton stooped down and placed a tentative hand on his shoulder and smiled. "Sherman would be lucky to have a father like you."

Mrs. Norton could've laughed at the shocked expression on her client's face. She may have needed a few moments to collect her thoughts, but, truthfully, the social worker's mind had been made up since Peabody answered her last question. Now there was no doubt in her mind that Sherman would be going to a good home and that was all that mattered.

"Let me get this straight Mrs. Norton." The still stunned beagle began. "Can I count on your testimony during the court proceedings?"

Mrs. Norton gave Peabody another warm smile and held out her hand. "Please, call me Clara. And yes, I promise you, Mr. Peabody, that I will do everything in my power to help you gain custody of Sherman."

Mr. Peabody returned her gesture in spades, shaking her hand as his tail wagged a mile a minute. "Thank you so much Mrs- Clara. And please, feel free to call me Peabody."

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**BTW, this story will also be posted to Tumblr under the username Katielynn526. Also, if anyone has any interesting facts or insights about the adoption process of NY state please feel free to message me.**

**Sincerely,**

**Katie**


	2. Visitation Rights

**Hello again readers, and welcome to another installment of Peabody's Probably Adoption Process! Thank you all so much for the amazing reviews on my first chapter! Believe me when I say a good review makes all the difference in the world. You people are awesome!**

**Anyway, in this one-shot I wanted to interpret the state home where Sherman would've stayed in those months the courts were processing Peabody's adoption request. Also, just to clarify for future reference: the stories in this fic don't follow any particular chronological order. The one-shots in this fic are linked by the trials Peabody faced when he adopted Sherman, but that's about it. I don't really have a cohesive narrative in mind. **

**With that said, please enjoy the fic! **

**p.s.-I highly recommend you listen to the song "Feels Like Home" by Josh Groban before or after reading this. The song pretty much describes Peabody and Sherman's relationship to a tee and was a major source of inspiration for this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Peabody and Sherman will never be mine. I'm just stuck with my terrible OC's: Mrs. Hamish and Charlotte. (such nasty people... ;) **

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*Knock knock knock* Peabody knocked purposefully on the large dilapidated door, carefully readjusting the small book he held under one arm.

The small dog rocked impatiently on the balls of his paws as he stood on the weathered stone steps of The HardRock orphanage. A crisp autumn breeze blew through the alley, kicking up the various pieces of discarded trash that lined the streets of the shady neighborhood. Drawing his jacket and the book closer, Peabody winced as the acrid smell of cigarette butts hit his nose. "Delightful," he muttered sarcastically to himself as he saw one of the offending objects carried off in the breeze, its smell lingering far longer than he'd like.

Since finding Sherman and vowing to adopt him, Peabody had visited the HardRock orphanage frequently. Unfortunately Sherman was still deemed a ward of the state by the courts and would remain so unless he won custody. However, that did not mean the dog couldn't visit with his boy. Peabody was allotted two visits per week and he fully intended to make the most if his limited time.

That is, if someone would open the door. Tapping his foot impatiently on the stoop, Peabody frowned in annoyance. He knew they were in there. Through the door his ears could make out the muffled chaos of scrambling children as they tromped through the house. Really, he was well aware what the orphanage matriarch, Mrs. Hamish, thought of him, but if she thought she could just ignore his legal right to visitation then-

Suddenly, the beagle jumped in alarm as a loud crash sounded on the other side of the door, leaving an unsettling silence in its wake. It was followed by the sound of rushing footsteps. "WHAT DID I TELL YOU BRATS ABOUT RUNNING IN THE HOUSE!?" A shrill shout cut through Peabody's ear drums. More footsteps sounded and the dog leapt out of the way just in time as the door was suddenly thrown open.

Slouched in the doorway was a sullen looking teenage girl; her acid green hair stood out in sharp contrast to her pale, pinched face. Her eyes widened momentarily at the sight of a bespectacled dog on the doorstep, before returning to their default state of disinterest. "So you're really are a dog huh? Weird. So d'ya wanna see the kid or what?"

It took a minute for Peabody to respond to the unfamiliar girl. "Excuse me Miss..."he tried hard to maintain eye contact and not to linger on her many piercings, "but I was under the impression I would be dealing with Mrs. Hamish. Where is she and who might you be?" He desperately hoped the woman hasn't left this adolescent to care for the children.

The girl shrugged in disinterest, "Aunt Jan's out back for a smoke. Left me in charge. Name's Charlotte. And you must be the weird dude that visits the baby on the third floor. Shamus or something-"

"Sherman." Peabody interrupted, growing increasingly agitated at the teenager's nonchalant tone.

Charlotte rolled her heavily lidded eyes. "Whatever. You comin' or what?" She didn't bother to wait for a reply as she went back into the house. Peabody scrambled after her, having barely enough time to get his tail in the door before it slammed shut.

Stranding in the foyer, Peabody winced at the sudden onslaught of noise and smell. Being as sensitive to he was the auditory and sensory input, Peabody had long since trained himself to work past his hyperactive senses in order to properly function. However, the orphanage tested his resolve each time he visited. The cloying odor of mold and sour milk reached his nose, telling him that Mrs. Hamish had done very little cleaning or grocery shopping since last week, or the week before that.

It appeared that most of children had gone back to their usual play except, this time, there was no door the muffle the ruckus. Boys and girls of varying ages where chasing each other through the dilapidated house, their ill-fitted cloths hanging loosely about their thin frames. The younger children trailed in the wake of the older children, trying in vain to keep up, eager to be included.

They paid little attention to Peabody—apparently the sight of a talking dog had become far too frequent to be deemed interesting—but the dog watched them all the same, his heart growing heavy as he was reminded of his own upbringing. Granted a pet shelter was vastly different from a human orphanage but the same survival of the fittest mentality still applied. Being the runt of the litter hadn't been easy and Peabody recalled many a night spent hungry because he hadn't been strong enough to make his way to the food dishes. The very possibility of Sherman growing up like that made the beagle's skin crawl.

Out of the corner of his eye, Peabody saw two young boys peeking out from over the top of the frayed couch in the living room. From their guilty expressions and the remains of a lamp on the threadbare carpet, Peabody gathered that they had been the culprits from earlier.

"Don't think I've forgotten about you two!" Charlotte turned a withering glare on the children, causing them to sink lower into the couch. "I'll deal with you later!"

Impatiently, she gestured for him to follow her, the creaky wooden stairs groaning under her boots. The beagle's light weight caused minimal noise as he climbed the steps, his paw pads leaving prints on the dusty steps. Built around the late 1800s from Peabody's estimation, the orphanage reflected its age in the worse way. Floors old and creaking, ceilings cracked and stained, walls bent and crumbling, really it was a miracle the building was still standing. Well perhaps not such a miracle in the eyes of its young residents.

Trying to break the awkward silence, Peabody cleared his throat. "So, are you helping your aunt to gain work experience?"

The green-haired teen turned to him, an unsettling smirk on her face. "You could say that. It was either this or juvie..." the genius winced, sorry he'd asked.

Finally, they reached the third flight and his nose twitched as he detected a familiar scent. Amid the stench of mold and grime was the understated but calming smell of his boy. It was all Peabody could do to stop his treacherous tail from wagging.

Suddenly, a loud wail broke through the silence. Alarming the dog and eliciting a loud groan from Charlotte. "Argh! It won't stop doing THAT! I swear that thing cries on the hour."

Not even sparing a moment to glare at the teen, Peabody ran to the door with Sherman's scent and pulled it open.

And, as sudden as it had started, the wails abruptly stopped as Peabody came face to face with a pair of curious brown eyes framed by an oversized pair of glasses. Sherman let out a surprised hiccup as the dog came into his sight, face still bright red from crying. The reason for said tears soon became evident to Peabody as the smell of a dirty diaper reached his nose. That would be the first thing to rectify.

Recognition soon flickered in the infant's eyes and all at once Sherman's face blossomed into a smile. He gurgled delightedly as Peabody drew closer, his tiny arms held out expectantly.

"Hello there Sherman," he said warmly as he put down the book and picked up the squirming bundle, careful to support the infant's head and neck. "Did you miss me?" Sherman let out a trail of gibberish as his arms wrapped around the dog's snout. It was a foolish question of course. At five months an infant was barely mastering object permanence. Sherman couldn't even remember what he had for breakfast, let alone the person who visited him twice a week. Still, a small, foolishly sentimental part of him figured that if Sherman could always recognized his voice he was on the baby's mind in some way.

Locating the small, rickety changing table jammed into the corner of the room, Peabody balanced Sherman on his hip as he pulled out various supplies from the drawers. In the few months Sherman had stayed in the orphanage, Peabody had long since grown accustomed to changing soiled diapers during his visits, however, his nose would never really grow accustomed to the smell...

Laying a towel across the table, Peabody deftly maneuvered past the infant's flailing limbs, removing the dirty diaper and tossing it in the trash. Using a wet wipe to clean Sherman off, Peabody groaned quietly to himself as he saw the beginnings of a rash. Rage filled his him as the implications of this sank in. How long had it been since Sherman was last changed? How long he been left to stew in his own mess?

Luckily he managed to find a half container full petroleum jelly in one of the drawers. If the rash had bothered Sherman he didn't show it. The whole time the infant had been joyously babbling nonsense as Peabody tended to the inflamed areas, basking in attention he was receiving. After treating the rash and putting a fresh diaper on the squirming baby, the beagle placed Sherman back into his arms.

"Well, he's never stopped crying that fast before," came the deadpan voice of Charlotte as she leaned against the doorway.

Suddenly, Peabody felt Sherman's grip on his fur and jacket tighten. A low whine started in the infant's throat as he stared wearily at the strange, intimidating teenager, face half hidden by the dog's snout. Subconsciously, Peabody brought Sherman to his chest, nestling him securely in the crook of his arm. It seemed to calm him considerably.

If Charlotte noticed at all she didn't seem to care. "Well, Aunt Jan said you know the drill. Two hours tops, then she kicks you out." With that, the teenager turned on his heel and left, barely giving the two a second glance. "A talking dog," she muttered sardonically to herself as she tromped back down the stairwell. "Now I've seen everything…"

For a half second Peabody considered reminding the teen that the courts required all of his visitation periods to be supervised, but squelched the idea quickly. After all, He wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth and Sherman obviously wasn't fond of her—not that he couldn't fathom why.

A sudden tug on his ear brought his wandering mind back to the giggling infant in his arms. "GAH!" he exclaimed as Sherman's tiny fist closed tightly around the floppy appendage. "Now Sherman, I thought we agreed that my ear-ACK!- is not-OUCH-a pull toy…" The infant let out a trilling squeal each time Peabody reacted, obviously finding the dog's pain hilarious. Despite the pain, Peabody couldn't help but chuckle at Sherman infectious laughter as he wrestled his ear out of the baby's clenched digits. "Alright you little trouble maker, remind me to bring something for you to play with that's not attached to my anatomy next time alright?"

Sherman gurgled more gibberish in reply, legs and arms kicking playfully against Peabody's chest, knocking his bow-tie askew. For a minute it almost seemed like the infant was trying to respond, but again, Peabody new better. At five months a child could replicate consonant and vowel sounds, but that was all, mere parroting. Still it was a lovely sentiment…

"Now then Sherman, where were we?" he asked redundantly, picking up the small, worn, copy of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea he'd brought with him. Sitting on hard, dusty floor Peabody placed a still giggling Sherman in his lap, nuzzling the top of the baby's head affectionately with his muzzle. Sherman stared in fascination at the cover of the book as Peabody held it out to him. Obviously drawn to the bright shades of primary blue the baby reached out a small finger to trace the slightly raised shape of the illustrated Nautilus. Sherman's eyes widened in greater fascination as Peabody opened the book. Soon, the dog's soothing voice washed over the infant as he began to read:

"...The sea is everything. It covers seven tenths of the terrestrial globe. Its breath is pure and healthy. It is an immense desert, where man is never lonely, for he feels life stirring on all sides. The sea is only the embodiment of a supernatural and wonderful existence. It is nothing but love and emotion; it is the Living Infinite…"

It wasn't until he felt Sherman's, slow even breaths against his chest and his voice growing hoarse that Peabody closed the book. Sherman was curled up in the crook of his neck, sound asleep, his tiny body radiating warmth. Closing his eyes for a moment, Peabody was content just to feel the small heartbeat against his own.

It was strange really. A few months ago if you had stopped Peabody on the street and told him that he would be willing to give up everything just to raise the miniscule bundle in his arms, the canine genius would've recommended you seek psychological help. But now, as he held the infant close and breathed in the comforting scent, Peabody realized just how lonely his life had been.

Not that he could complain. All things considered his life had been wildly successful. After all, he'd accomplished more in one lifetime than most do in ten. But what was the point of all his stored knowledge, his vast experience, without a single person with which to share it? He'd only found Sherman a few months ago but, in all honesty, he could no longer picture a life without those small intakes of breath and vibrant gurgling laughter.

Letting out a quiet sigh, Peabody carefully brushed the small shock of bright auburn hair, taking in every detail of the baby's sleeping face. Subconsciously, Sherman leaned into the touch, snuggling closer into the warm white fur. The dog smiled as he felt small puffs of breath tickle the back of his neck, completely unable to logically explain how such a simple gesture elicited such overwhelming joy in him.

All his life he'd wanted to understand the concept of home. What was it? Why had he always needed it so badly? What did it even feel like? But as he felt the fluttering heartbeat of the tiny life in his arms, Peabody knew he'd found his answer.

A new smell suddenly crept under the dog's nose, a sickening stench of cheap perfume and nicotine. He stiffened, knowing who it was even before the thin voice cut through the peaceful quiet. "Ahem…" He looked up the see a small, bony woman in the doorway, her thin lips stretching into a leering smile.

"Mrs. Hamish." Peabody politely nodded to the orphanage head, subconsciously pulling Sherman closer to himself.

As she drew nearer he fought the urge to gag at the stench of smoke that clung to her stained and wrinkled house dress.

"Mr. Peabody," she returned, her voice dripping with honeyed distain. "It's been two hours and I believe it is time for you to go." She made a move to take the Sherman in her arms, but Peabody subtly moved out of the way, standing up in a pitiful attempt to meet her towering gaze.

"It's nice to finally see you in person instead of talking through your niece. Tell me, Mrs. Hamish; is it customary for you to leave a house full of young children under the charge of an adolescent girl?" His tone was light and conversational, but the accusatory glare in his eyes was anything but.

She met his gaze unflinchingly. "I don't know what you mean Mr. Peabody. I've been outside the whole time, taking care of a few things."

Peabody nodded, "Yes I can see that much. Are you aware that second hand smoke is incredibly lethal to small children? It causes roughly 150,000–300,000 new cases of bronchitis and pneumonia annually." It was become increasingly difficult to remain civil.

"That's why I go outside."

Peabody fought the urge to snort derivatively. From the smell that hung all around the house, he knew this was a blatant lie.

"And I don't suppose you have a proper defense for the innumerable safety violations you are currently committing in this home of yours? I hardly think it is right to raise children in such a neglectful-"

But he was cut off by Mrs. Hamish's sickly sweet voice. "Mr. Peabody if you have a problem with the way I am running my home you are more than welcome to leave a formal complaint with child services." Her smile widened, lips twisting into a smirk. "However, given the..." Her eyes roved up and down his canine body, "precarious nature of your case I would highly advise against this. After all, being the primary supervisor of your visits with Sherman, I may be called into court for testimony." She let the idea linger in the air for a moment before continuing: "I would hate to have to call you an unfit guardian Mr. Peabody. But if it's for the good of the child I will."

Peabody felt his stomach drop at the woman's self-satisfied smirk, all previous arguments dying in his throat. He had absolutely no power in this situation and she knew it.

"Now that we've come to an understanding I suggest you put the child back and leave. I'd hate to waste more of your valuable time." She once again moved to take the baby in his arms.

He drew back defiantly, turning to lower Sherman into the crib himself.

As Peabody began to loosen his grip, Sherman's eyes fluttered open. Noticing the sudden loss of warmth, the baby whined softly as he was placed on the stiff sheets of the crib, arms still held out expectantly. Taking a deep breath and trying to hold face, Peabody began to turn away. He stopped however as he felt a small but powerful tug. Sherman had managed to grasp one of Peabody's paws in his tiny hand. Urgently garbling gibberish, the baby clutched the paw tightly, big brown eyes pleading for him to stay.

At that moment, the sudden need to take Sherman with him, away from this place of callous neglect overwhelmed him, drowning his senses of thought and reason. But then the reality of his situation came crashing down as Mrs. Hamish cleared her throat once more.

"Ahem! If you're quite ready Mr. Peabody..." A slight edge was leaking into the sugary tone.

Managing to weaken the infant's Grip, Peabody pulled his paw free. Taking a deep breath to center himself, he took one last second to stroke Sherman's forehead before turning away.

Obviously coming to the conclusion that Peabody was leaving, the baby's whine started to turn into a wail. Peabody's heart ached at the sound, but he fought back the instinct to run back to Sherman. He would be back next week, even Mrs. Hamish couldn't deny him that much.

Hamish closed the door with a definitive thud, muffling the infant's cries, but not completely extinguishing them. Then again, Peabody suspected he'd be hearing those cries even after he was out of the house.

They moved down the stairs in tense silence, the only sounds coming from the thumps and bumps of scrambling children on the upper floors.

"So when is the final court hearing for your case Mr. Peabody?" Mrs. Hamish asked lightly as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Her voice was once again sickly sweet.

"Next Week, if all goes as planned" he replied simply, trying to work around the lump in his throat. He tried to slip into his usual detached professionalism, but found himself unable, Sherman's cries still ringing in his ears. He clutched the book tightly in his arms, wishing his resolve could be as strong.

Finally, they reached the front door. The dog breathed deeply as the door swung open and fresh air filled his nose. Even the polluted smog of New York was better than the horrible smells of the orphanage. Lightheaded from the sudden fresh air and his own emotional turmoil, Peabody almost didn't realize Mrs. Hamish had started to talk again.

"...Make no mistake Mr. Peabody. I want that boy out of this house as much as you do! The publicity this case is receiving has put enough of a spotlight on my home as it is. It's not good for the other children to have to deal with that stress." She lifted a hand to her heart melodramatically.

Peabody suspected it didn't have as much to do with the children as much as the fact that more public scrutiny meant more safety inspections. However, he kept his mouth closed, letting out a non-committal noise of acknowledgement. As detestable as the woman was, he knew making an enemy of her would be far worse.

"So you'll be back on Friday I suppose?" The woman asked exasperatedly, her bony hip slouched against the door frame. Peabody suspected Mrs. Hamish was fed up with his constant prying into the flawed, neglected workings of her home. Clearly she was only in it for the government checks...

He stared up at her defiantly on the steps, meaning her distain head on. "Of course," he stated matter-of-factly. "I wouldn't miss a chance to visit Sherman for the world. Good day Madame."

Hamish let out a noncommittal grunt before slamming the door in his face.

Peabody glared daggers at the door. Honestly, he didn't know who was worse, Mrs. Hamish or her niece. Neither of them had any right to be running a state home.

Letting out a long and aggravated sigh, Peabody lifted his glasses to massage the bridge of his snout. The sooner he removed Sherman from that horrible place the better. Sticking his paws into his jacket the dog slowly made his way to the bright red scooter he'd parked next to the front stoop. Clambering on and starting the engine, Peabody gave one last glance to the dilapidated building, staring despondently at the third floor window where he could still hear the muffled cries of his boy.

Taking a deep, breath and wiping the moisture that was rapidly accumulating on his glasses, Peabody fixed his eyes on the road and sped away. As he turned the corner, the wails grew fainter, but the genius' resolve grew stronger. Sherman would never grow up at the HardRock Orphanage. He would never know the pain being neglected and unloved, not if Mr. Peabody had anything to say about it!

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**So did you love it, hate it? Please feel free to shoot me a review! **

**Oh, and yes I know I made a direct reference to the recent MPAS comics with the whole ear-pulling gag. I can't help it! It was just too cute to ignore!**

**Warmest Regards,**

**Katie**


	3. Litigation and Complication

**Hello again Warpers! It's that special time where I try to write again. **

**This is another drabble for Peabody's Probable Adoption Process. In this I really wanted to explore the media's mixed reaction to Peabody's petition for adoption. Also, I wanted to explore why the case would have to go court in the first place, rather than just be negotiated with an agency. Finally, I wanted to build on the relationship between Peabody and social worker Clara Norton as they work on Peabody's case. **

**Long story short, this is just me overthinking everything. Anyway, Hope you like it! **

**Disclaimer: Peabody and Sherman will never be mine. Sigh…**

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Mr. Peabody fiddled nervously with his tie as he waited by the elevator. Being a rather scheduled person, he wasn't accustomed to unexpected late night visitors, but when Clara had buzzed in through the intercom Peabody let her in without question. The urgency in her voice, however, had deeply unsettled him. In the admittedly short time he'd known her, Clara was never so abrupt in her visits. The implications of this made his mind whirr with anxiety.

Over the last few weeks, he and the social worker had formed an excellent rapport. Professional and shrewd, he deeply admired the dedication and attention to detail she displayed while reviewing his case. She had proven herself an invaluable ally in both her support of his petition and her insight into the state adoption process. Together he was certain they'd made an airtight case for the adoption agency proving he was more than fit to be Sherman's adoptive guardian. It seemed they would be resolving this case through negotiation without even having to step foot in court. Thanks to Clara's positive examination results, he would be able to bring Sherman home in little under a month.

The elevator opened to reveal a very flustered looking Clara Norton, her wispy brown hair falling out of its bun. The older woman wasn't even wearing her usual professional suit jacket, instead wearing a simple pair of jeans and a sweater.

The beagle hid his surprise at her appearance, choosing instead to smiling politely. "Ah, Clara! My apologies; I would've had some tea ready but I wasn't expecting you," He prompted her subtly.

Clara tried to smile but failed miserably as she stepped into the apartment, her worn briefcase held tightly in her hand. "I'm so sorry for the intrusion Peabody, but there's been an update on the case that I thought you needed to hear in person."

The anxiety suddenly intensified tenfold, any further pleasantries dying in his throat. "Why don't you sit down," he gestured to the living room. She took her usual place on the couch, placing the briefcase on the coffee table and pulling out her reading glasses.

For a moment, it almost felt like one of their regular sessions, where she would ask him particulars regarding his life, finances, and readiness to adopt a child and he, in turn, would inquire about her knowledge of the adoption system. However, the poised, professional persona she usually displayed in their sessions was gone, leaving her looking tired and weary. Her hands massaged her temples as she stared past the hardwood floor.

"Is everything alright?" Then, suddenly, a thought struck him, leaving a horrifying aftermath in its wake. "Is Sherman alright?"

Clara's head lifted in surprise. "Wha- Oh no! Don't worry, Sherman is fine… it's just..." She let out an aggravated groan. "I can't believe- After all we've put together- They can just-," she was stumbling over her words. Never before had Peabody seen her so flustered.

Finally, she took a deep, calming breath, centering herself before continuing. "The agency just contacted me an hour ago. We won't be able to negotiate your custody of Sherman. Apparently the Child Protective Agency has decided to step in and they've brought in an attorney..."

She turned to make eye contact with Peabody, her voice heavy with frustration. "We're scheduled to be at a litigation in Family Court in two months." Reaching into her briefcase, Clara pulled out a thick sheet of paper, holding it out to him. It was an official report from the Department of Social Services requesting his presence in court, the time and place spelled out in bold.

"Oh dear..." The beagle's eyes scanned the document. It took a few minutes for the full impact of her words to hit him. Another two months with Sherman stuck in the HardRock orphanage. Another two months of staying awake, staring warily at the ceiling and worrying about the future of his boy. Only two months to prepare for the biggest court case of his life. Blood pounding in his ears and his paws clenched the edges of the paper. It took all of his self-control not to rip the report in half.

"...I'm so sorry Peabody." Clara was saying. "I tried to interject the results of my case report, hoping that it would show that there's nothing more to investigate, but they refused to hear it." She scowled, "They claim that they just want to make sure that you and your home are in Sherman's best interests, but if you ask me they've already made up their minds." She ran a hand through her messy bun. "And there's something else…"

Peabody glanced up from the letter, his ears perked cautiously.

"Have you been watching the news recently?

He frowned at the strange question. "No. I've been rather busy as of late. Why do you..." The question trailed off as his lightning fast mind put the pieces together. Grabbing the remote off the coffee table, Peabody turned on the television. What greeted him was the bold headline: **"Dog Petitioning to Adopt Boy."**

"You heard it here folks" stated the grinning news anchor. "World renowned business tycoon, inventor, scientist, and dog-wonder Mr. Peabody has filed a petition to adopt an infant boy." Behind the man flashed a picture of Mr. Peabody taken just last year as he was being awarded the Nobel Prize. "But can a dog adopt a human child? Needless to say the issue is sparking massive controversy all over our fair city. Our man on the street Hector Dewalt has spent the whole day conducting interviews. Here are some of the more compelling opinions:

The screen flashed to an image of an older woman on the street. "I don't like it one bit! It's just not natural," she shook her head fervently.

It switched to another middle aged woman, staring in befuddlement at the microphone thrust in her face. "Well I suppose if he cares about the child..."

"Absolutely out of the question!" A burly older man barked into the camera. "First we're cutting funding in schools and now we're giving our children to dogs?! What is America coming to?!"

A teenager carrying a skateboard in the park stared dumbfounded. "Dude! I didn't even know a dog could get smart enough to adopt a kid. Kudos to him!" He gave a thumbs-up to the camera and grinned.

An older woman scowled, her lips pursed. "I would hardly call him a fit person to adopt. He's not really a person at all is he?"

"I am in full support of this!" A young woman beamed at the camera from under her bright yellow sun hat. "We already have too many kids caught up in the foster system. If Mr. Peabody is offering a loving home, I say the courts have a pretty easy decision to make!"

The name Reverend Gavin appeared in the caption below as the screen flashed to a young man standing on the front steps of a church. "God gave man dominion over animals not the other way around! I don't know how anyone could sanction such a preposterous notion!"

"Prof. Walter Dillard, Ph D. in psychology" appeared below an older, bespectacled gentleman. "Well if the Harlow monkey experiments in attachment have taught us anything it's that children respond to warmth and comfort no matter what the species. But is it truly ethical? I'm not sure..."

A teenage girl smacked her gum, her blond hair drawn up in a ponytail. "Aww! That is so adorbs! Could you tell me his name again because I am totally blogging about this later!"

Another priest, Father Harold of St. Augustine, smiled warmly at the camera. "I see no problem in Peabody's adoption, nor do I see it as any sort of abomination. The way I see it, it's just someone who wants to be a father."

A grizzled old man on a park bench grimaced in confusion. "Dog adopts boy? That's the biggest load of tripe I ever heard! Quit pullin' my leg and leave me alone." Without warning the man pulled out his cane and swung it at the reporter, knocking the camera askew. "No good hippy reporters and their cockamamie stories. Dog adopts boy. Heh heh…" The old man's voice could be heard until the screen abruptly changed to: **"Please Standby for technical difficulties."**

The channel changed abruptly, re-routing to another station.

An off-screen crowd cheered as a comedian flashed his toothy smile, shuffling papers from behind his desk. The question **"Is America****'****s Youth Going to the Dogs?"** appeared in bold above his head. "Nation, if you've been watching the news and I hope you have been, then you know about the top story that's got the nation _barking_ mad. I am of course referring to genius-dog Mr. Peabody's attempts to adopt an infant boy. Yes America, as _far-fetched_ as it seems a dog is looking to adopt a boy." He paused for comedic effect. "Now I, for one, am in full support of this. I only hope he's had all his shots first. I am of course referring to the infant. Who knows where those things have been-"

Peabody switched to another station only to find the caption:** Doggy Wants to Be Daddy: Court Disputes over Canine Guardianship.** "According to our sources, the infant in question is a ward of the state with no known birth parents" a female news anchor stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "This case would set a precedent as the first and perhaps last interspecies adoption. Details of this story to follow at eleven, but first the weather-"

The screen went blank as Peabody turned off the television. Clara glanced anxiously in the beagle's direction, trying to gauge his reaction, but Peabody just sat in silence, his mind working to process all this new information.

Given who and what he was, Peabody was fairly used to being thrust into the spotlight. Ever since he graduated Harvard in little under a year, the media had been fascinated with the phenomena of a canine genius. While Peabody resented that his species always seemed to take precedence in any of his accomplishments, he still felt the public's reaction to him was overwhelmingly positive. This sudden level of negative public reaction was something he hadn't predicted.

Really though, he should have seen this coming. Peabody chastised himself for his lack of foresight. It was human nature to fear the unknown. For a dog to win the Nobel Prize was one thing, for a dog to essentially claim he could raise a human child as his own was something altogether different. And, after all, it was human nature to fear the unknown.

Try as he might to rationalise and compartmentalise all this information, however, Peabody couldn't prevent a small shred of frustration from twisting itself into his gut. It wasn't as if he'd been looking to make a statement or draw attention to himself! On the contrary, he was an immensely private person in regards to his home-life.

The dog sighed, knocking his glasses askew as he pinched the bridge of his snout. For a split second, he allowed that shadow of doubt to enter his mind. Was he doing the right thing, bringing Sherman into all this? Would it be best if he just made sure the boy went to another home, a human home?

As sudden as the thought came Peabody rejected it, sending it flying back into the far recesses of his mind. No, he vowed to adopt Sherman and that's exactly what he was going to do. The public would just have to come to terms with the idea in its own time.

Suddenly, his consciousness floated back to the surface as the calming smell of herbal tea hit his nose. He turned to find Clara holding out a cup of chamomile for him to take. "I hope you don't mind," she said, sipping deeply from her own cup. "I've been here so many times I know where you keep your teas, and I figured we could both use the stress relief."

Peabody smiled gratefully as he took the cup in his paws. He took a small sip, allowing the calming warmth to sink in. "It's no trouble at all. Thank you." He sighed into the steaming liquid. For a moment, the two sat across from each other in silence, allowing the full weight of their current situation to sink in.

"Well, it looks as though your initial predictions were correct Clara," he started. "The public has effectively worked themselves into a tizzy. Now we have a media circus on our hands and a court date to contend with." Peabody started. "I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to back out of this now. You've already done more than enough for Sherman and I as it is. "

But the woman just smiled playfully over her reading glasses. "And quit just as it's getting interesting? I think not! Besides," Her warm eyes met his earnestly. "I said I would do everything in my power to help you gained custody of Sherman and I intend to keep that promise."

At this, Peabody's gut slowly unclenched. "Well I admit that's good to hear. It would have been a hassle to bring someone else up to speed with the case." He tried to pass off his tone as nonchalant, but Clara could see the genuine relief in his eyes.

"Well," He clapped his paws, fresh vigour in his tone, "What are we waiting for? We have a case to plan!" The beagle leapt out of the chair and grabbed a large stack of paper from a nearby table. "Just some preliminary legal research I was conducting in my spare time," he explained, setting the stack down on the coffee table with a loud thump. "One can never be too well versed on the legal system." He pulled out a small notepad and pen from the pile, furiously scribbling ideas as he talked aloud. "Now our argument will have to be completely airtight and the issue of species will be the prosecution's biggest argument. Luckily I've been doing some research on the-"

"Whoa! Hang on a minute!" Clara interrupted, smiling at Peabody's enthusiasm while trying to trying to catch up to his lightning-fast thoughts. "Shouldn't we be contacting your attorney first?"

Peabody glanced towards her in surprise. "Attorney? Clara I've never had to hire an attorney before in my life and I don't intend to start now. I believe I am more than capable of representing myself in this matter."

"What!" The smile vanished from her face. If there was one thing she told her clients never to do, it was to enter a litigation unrepresented. "Peabody, are you sure that's the wisest decision?"

He merely cocked an eyebrow in reply. "I see no problem in it. After all, as you've already read in my files, I did graduate from Harvard-"

"In business" she interjected, arms crossed.

He waved his hand dismissively, looking back down to his notes. "That was only my major. I also graduated with a few secondary concentrations. Legal Studies, Chemistry, Astrophysics..." he counted them off on one paw. "Oh, and Philosophy. I can easily say I gained a _Thoreau_ knowledge of civil disobedience in that class."

Clara groaned past the terrible pun. "Peabody, I'm not saying you aren't capable of manoeuvring through the legal system. I'm just concerned that you may not be ready…" she wracked her mind for the right word, "emotionally."

This earned her Peabody's full attention.

"There's a lot at stake in this case and we don't know how bad the arguments held against you will be. I know the attorney Child Services has hired. His name is Greg Kithsman and he's ruthless in his prosecution. I've seen some of the most level headed clients lose themselves in the courtroom under his questioning, and I just don't want to see that happen to- I mean. We've worked so hard on this case after all." She finished lamely, averting her eyes to shuffle a few loose papers on the table.

Clara's mind buzzed in warning as she realised she was doing the one thing a social worker should never do: becoming too attached to a case. In the last few months she had not only come to terms with the notion of a talking dog, she had come to appreciate the person behind the spectacle. Mr. Peabody was one of the most competent, prepared, and courageous clients she'd ever had the pleasure of working with. Rarely had she seen someone work so hard for a child that wasn't even their own flesh and blood let alone species. Yes, she knew her attitude was far from professional, but Clara couldn't seem to find it in herself to give Peabody's case to one of her co-workers. Something inside her needed to see this through. There was a young boy in need of a home and a wonderful person willing to give it and she was determined to see them united as a family.

She looked up when Peabody cleared his throat. "As much as I appreciate your concern, I am still determined to represent myself in this case. If The Child Protection Agency wishes to assert what is best for Sherman in court then I fully intend to give them a run for their money" He smiled reassuringly as her. "Besides, whatever the prosecution has to use against me I guarantee it's nothing I haven't heard before."

There was obviously no talking him out of this. Clara sighed as she thought over the genius' words. Well, if there was one thing she'd learned after all these months, it was to never underestimate Peabody. "Alright," she finally relented. "If you think you can handle it."

Peabody nodded confidently, smiling at her. "Let this Kithsman throw at me what he can, because I think I have a strategy that will finish this case before it even starts..."

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**That's all folks! Up next: the court case! I figure this story has about 2-3 more drabbles left in it before I'll stop. I've already got a tentative ending planned out… Anyway, please feel free to share your thoughts! I adore feedback!**


	4. The Trial

**Hi again warpers! Welcome to the fourth installment of Peabody's Probable Adoption Process!**

**Sorry it took so long to update but this chapter took forever to write. I had to do a ton of research on court-etiquette, courtroom layout, general court terminology, and adoption laws. Let's just say I now have a newfound appreciation for anyone who has legally adopted a child. It is NOT an easy process… Anyway, I hope this isn't too dry but I honestly wanted to place Peabody's litigation in a semi-real world setting and think about all the legal complications he would go through in the process. Also, I'm not sure how accurate the actual trial is. I'm basically working off internet research, interviews, and my own very limited experience. (please feel free to tell me if I got something wrong!)**

**Oh, and thank you to all for leaving me such wonderful reviews! God bless you people you are awesome! Please keep them coming because I love hearing all of your wonderful opinions!**

**Disclaimer: Peabody and Sherman still aren't mine and neither is the judge, but I seem to be making a ton of OCs for this fic…**

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As the first ray of early morning light peaked through the towering skyscrapers of New York City, a tiny red moped could be seeing flying along the streets, skilfully weaving between the cars and trucks that dwarfed it in scale. A few people on their morning commute couldn't help but gawk as they saw what looked like a bespectacled dog whizzing by on said moped. A few drivers had to pinch themselves just to confirm that they were indeed awake.

Meanwhile, as Peabody brought the moped to a halt at a red light, his body seemed to vibrate with enough nervous energy to contend with the revving engine underneath him. After two months of careful planning and preparation, the day of the litigation was finally here. It was the day that would decide, once and for all, his future with Sherman.

Anxiously he reached a paw behind him to touch the small briefcase strapped to the back of the seat, checking that it was indeed still there. It contained important documentation he would need to support his case. Of course it was going to take more than a few official papers to win this case. He would need to be at the top of his game, his wits about him at all times.

Ever the over thinker, Peabody's mind was a mess of various outcomes and possibilities, each steadily becoming worse and worse.

What if his strategy failed?

What if the courts ruled him unfit?

What if he was never allowed to see Sherman again?

Suddenly a loud honk from the car behind him rocked Peabody from his spiraling thoughts. The light had turned green and he hadn't even noticed. Waving a paw in apology, he sped up and wound the moped around the next block. If his internal compass was correct, the court house only a few blocks away now…

Mentally shaking himself, Peabody barred all the toxic thoughts from his consciousness. He couldn't afford to flirt with the possibility of failure, there was too much at stake. Instead he choose to think about how warm Sherman would be when he was placed in his arms, never to be removed again.

The beagle let out a deep, cleansing breath as his mind turned towards the positive. Yes, he could do this. He was a genius after all. He'd gone paw to toe with world leaders and powerful CEOs, conversed and debated with diplomats and scientific geniuses. Surely he could prove to a family court judge that he could be an appropriate guardian to a young boy.

But as he turned the final corner to the court house, his heart dropped into his stomach at the sight that greeted his eyes.

A massive crowd of people were surrounding front steps of the New York City courthouse. His eyes widened in surprise. Due to the immense media attention and publicity this case was receiving, the courts had agreed to Peabody's request that the date of the litigation be kept strictly on a need-to-know basis. However, it looked like the media had had other ideas.

Some were reporters, looking around eagerly for anyone to interview. Some were photographers, searching for that one shot to make the front page. Others were protestors, shouting as they held up their picket signs: "DOWN WITH DOG ADOPTION!" "THINK OF THE CHILD!" "A DOG IS NOT A DADDY!" All of them were making a terrible ruckus that pounded into his eardrums even from fifteen feet away.

Cautiously, Peabody began to maneuver the tiny moped backwards, desperately hoping he could loop around the block and park in back of the court house. However, a loud shout of "LOOK! IT'S HIM!" effectively destroyed that plan.

"Oh my..."

The reaction was instantaneous as the massive hoard of people swarmed the genius, the moped between him and them his only line of defense.

"Mr. Peabody! What are your thoughts as you walk into this litigation?-"

"Mr. Peabody, how do you feel about the massive controversy this case has sparked?-"

"Mr. Peabody! As a potential adoptive parent, what's your opinion on the US foster system?-"

"Is it true you plan to raise the boy as your own and not a pet?-"

"Will the child inherit your massive wealth?-"

"Mr. Peabody-"

"Please look here sir-"

"What are your thoughts on-"

"Mr. Peabody-"

He squinted as flashing lights glared into his eyes, his ears pressing tightly to his head to block out the cacophony of noise. Still, he tried to compose himself in the midst of the chaos. "No comment" he told them as he searched desperately for a path to the front doors.

"MR. PEABODY!"

His ears perked as a familiar voice floated above the din. He looked up to see Clara flagged by several police officers as they pushed a path through the crowd.

"Mrs. Norton!" He greeted, taking care to use her professional moniker in public. Taking advantage of the now clear path, he parked the moped, unhooked his briefcase, and walked to meet her. Taking another centering breath, Peabody willed his movements to be calm and composed, as insults from the protestors rang in his ears.

"Thank you very much officers." He nodded gratefully to the uniformed men as they continued to hold back the raging crowd. He then turned back to Clara. "Shall we go in then?"

Nodding briskly in agreement, the two made their way up the front steps, past the towering columns and into the courthouse. It wasn't until the large oak doors slammed shut and blissful silence met his ears that Peabody allowed his shoulders to drop in relief. Next to him, Clara was decompressing as well, a hand pressed to her temple.

He smiled at her wearily. "I take it your morning has been as hectic as mine then?"

She returned the smile sardonically. "I think yours might've been worse actually. At least I wasn't jumped by the press." The woman scowled back at the doors as if trying to penetrate the thick oak and reach the crowd outside. "I still don't know how the date was leaked. Those were confidential court records."

The two passed easily through the security check and entered the main lobby.

"We're in court room 4," Clara explained as she led Peabody through the expansive hallway, her heels clicking softly as they met the marble floor. "So I don't suppose you actually got any sleep last night."

"Not a wink," the beagle chuckled dryly. "I find my mind is both my greatest asset and enemy when it comes to situations like this one. It works wonderfully under pressure but I can't seem to turn it off."

She smirked lightly. "Frankly, Peabody, I find it hard to believe that your mind ever turns off."

Peabody was about to retort when a familiar smell reached his nose. The dog frowned in confusion. It smelled like… but it couldn't be…

Rushing past Clara around the next corner, Peabody was shocked to find a Sherman sleeping peacefully in a small baby carrier held by a very large, imposing man. A million questions flew through his mind at once, but only two took precedence. "Excuse me! Who are you and just what are you doing with Sherman?"

If the man was affected by Peabody's glare he didn't show it. He merely smoothed his pressed suit and gave the beagle a leering grin. "Ah Mr. Peabody, I was wondering when you would be arriving. I don't think we've met before." His words were as smooth and oily as his slicked back hair. "I'm Greg Kithsman. I've been called in as a plaintiff on behalf of the Child Protection Agency." With that the man put down the baby carrier and stood up. At least six feet in height, the Kithsman towered over Peabody's slight three foot two. "I must say, it's a pleasure to meet such an accomplished animal as yourself."

The backhanded compliment stung, but Peabody refused to be intimidated. "I'll ask you again" he began in a tight voice. "Why have you brought Sherman into this mess? A courthouse is no place for an infant! I hope you are aware that leaving a child in a courtroom unsupervised will have you held in contempt of course, not to mention a fine of up to $500-"

"I am well aware of the state's opinion of minors in the courtroom." Kithsman interrupted calmly. "Rest assured, Sherman will be waiting here with my assistant while court is in session," He nodded to a young woman sitting on the bench next to him. "There's no need for overreaction." His words were polite and cordial, but his voice dripped with condescension. Before Peabody could retort, someone else did.

"I don't think Mr. Peabody is overreacting at all" came an angry voice from behind them. Peabody turned to see another, older man standing behind him. Tall and lanky, he nearly rivalled Kithsman in height.

"You had absolutely no right to remove Sherman from the orphanage."

The moment Peabody's case had been scheduled for litigation, the judge needed to appoint a guardian ad litem to represent Sherman in court. The man he'd chosen was an experienced attorney by the name of Karl Harris. Specializing in the representation of minors in court for twenty five years, Harris took his job to speak on behalf of Sherman in court very seriously and had immediately sought to learn everything he could on the unusual case. Over the past two months he'd met with Mr. Peabody several times, assessing Peabody's petition for adoption and deciding whether or not the dog was in his client's best interests. He'd also thoroughly examined Clara's own assessment of Peabody and even visited Sherman in the Orphanage on one of Peabody's visitation days, taking notes here and there as he watched the two interact. On the day of the court case, it would be his job to give the judge a full assessment of his findings and provide his own recommendation as to what was best for Sherman.

Peabody had come to respect and admire Mr. Harris for the unbiased nature of his investigation. It couldn't be easy, serving as an independent objective party, but he appreciated the balance Harris' findings would bring the polarized case.

Harris turned to Peabody and bent down to politely shake his paw. "Sorry if I'm late, but I had a bit of trouble getting into the courthouse."

The beagle nodded, "Understandable considering the…. unexpected turnout."

With that the older attorney rounded back on Kithsman. "As the representative of the child in question I demand to know on what grounds you had the right to remove him from the orphanage."

Kithsman remained unfazed through the men's barrage, simply reaching into his briefcase and pulling out a small legal document. "For your information, I've was granted permission by my clients at the Child Protective Agency. Also, the child's state appointed caregiver Mrs. Hamish was more than willing to cooperate."

Harris scanned the document thoroughly, running a hand over his nearly trimmed beard. He let out a sigh of frustration as he handed the document back to a still grinning Kithsman, finding nothing to legally object to. He sent an apologetic glance Peabody's way before sitting down.

Suddenly, a tiny cry came from the baby carrier. As if sensing the tense pressure building around him, Sherman was beginning to wake up, whining as he took in the unfamiliar environment.

Instantly Peabody moved to go to Sherman's aid but Kithsman moved himself if front if the carrier, effectively blocking the dog's path.

"I believe the stipulations of your visitation rights state that you may only be allowed to interact with the child while in the bounds of the orphanage." He reminded Peabody, not even bothering to look at the beagle as he smoothed his lapel. "I would hate to see a breach in that agreement so close to this case's resolution. Amanda if you would…"

The primly dressed woman at his side callously nodded, picking up the carrier as if she would a package or briefcase and walking towards the restrooms to change the fussing infant. All the way Peabody could hear Sherman escalating cries mixing with the staccato click of the woman heels as they hit the marble floor.

The dog's eyes narrowed dangerously and he took a step forward to give Kithsman a piece of his mind, but a touch to his shoulder held him back. He turned to see Clara at his side. Subtly she tilted her head towards the end of the hallway where several well-dressed men were sitting. Judging by both their notepads and the hand held tape recorders, they must've been the court-sanctioned reporters Peabody had been warned were going to be in attendance. They were eagerly eavesdropping on his and Kithsman's argument, scribbling down God knows what on those infernal notepads.

Realizing the implications of this, Peabody reluctantly turned away from Kithsman and sat down next to Clara on one of the hard benches. His cheeks burned as he felt the large man's condescending grin following him.

At that moment Peabody's mind connected the dots and it suddenly became abundantly clear why Kithsman had brought Sherman to the courthouse that day. His sole reason for doing it was to emotionally shake his opponent before the case. It was unethical and underhanded, but an effective strategy. Peabody wasn't sure what made him angrier: the fact that Kithsman would resort to such tactics or the fact that he allowed such a ruse to work on him.

He assumed Clara had come to the same conclusion from the way she was angrily wringing her hands in her lap, a scowl on her face. "If he's resorted to this it must mean he doesn't have much of a case." She muttered quietly to Peabody. "He's trying to get you to crack in front of the judge."

"Yes, I'm well aware." He nodded, answering her out of the corner of his mouth. "But he'll find I don't break easily..."

Suddenly the door to courtroom 4 swung open, and a court officer walked out of the doorway. "Both parties and their respective attorneys go in first" he ordered, nodding towards Peabody, Kithsman, and Harris." Also, members of the media may sit in the rows that we have reserved."

Giving Clara a reassuring look, Peabody walked steadily into the courtroom, his eyes fixed forward and his head held high.

"All Rise... This court is now in session. The honorable Judge Hoffman presiding…"

Peabody and the rest of the crowded courtroom rose as the judge entered the room and made his way towards the bench. As he sat the large man peered down at both Kithsman and Peabody from over his round spectacles, keeping his face perfectly impartial. He then looked down at the papers on his desk and began the trial.

"This is case number 69K08-2043-MP-00739, in the matter of Mr. Peabody. Present in the courtroom is both the defendant and the plaintiff. This trial will determine whether or not Mr. Peabody will be granted custody of Sherman Doe, an infant currently residing at the HardRock orphanages as a ward of the state. Mr. Peabody I am obligated to remind you that you have the right to legal assistance. Would you like the court to assign you an attorney?"

Peabody shook his head politely. "No thank you, Your Honor. I will be representing myself in this case."

The judge raised one eyebrow but made no move to comment. "Very well Gentleman, you have five minutes to make your opening statements. The plaintiff will begin first." He gestured to Kithsman, who stood up and walked to the podium with a confident stride.

"May it please the court, my name is Greg Kithsman and I am speaking today on behalf of the state, more specifically, the Child Protection Agency. I am here today to prove that Mr. Peabody is an unfit candidate to properly parent a child."

He paused for effect, taking a moment to straighten his tie.

"This is not to demerit Mr. Peabody of course." His words sounded sincere, but there was a hard glint in his eyes. "Considering what he is, he has made quite a name for himself. However, the Child Protection Agency doesn't consider how... _well trained_ a candidate is…"

A murmured hush ran through the gallery at Kithsman's words. Peabody, knowing that all eyes were on him to see how he would respond to such an accusation, tried to keep himself as poised and neutral as possible.

"…We consider first and foremost what is best for the child. And, as far as the agency is concerned, Mr. Peabody is unfit to adopt and raise Sherman." After finishing his statement, the man sat back down at his table, his body language relaxed and self-assured.

If the judge had an opinion about Kithsman's opening statement he didn't show it. "The defendant may now make his opening statement."

He gestured to Peabody, who calmly stepped up to the podium and began.

"May it please the court, my name is Mr. Peabody and I am speaking today with the intent of adopting Sherman, an infant boy I found abandoned roughly six months ago. Since then Sherman has become very dear to me and I want to provide him with the home life he deserves. With this in mind, I filed a petition for the adoption with an agency and for four months I worked closely with Mrs. Clara Norton of social services to prove myself a worthy guardian. We had intended to sort out the whole process through negotiation, however…" he frowned slightly. "The Child Protection Agency seemed to have other ideas." He cleared his throat before continuing. "Frankly I believe this issue has been blown out of proportion due to the relatively minor issue of my species, but I am willing to do whatever it takes to legally become Sherman's guardian. That is all, your honor."

He sat back down, letting his words settle over the crowd. Already he could hear the reporters writing furiously in their notepads, hanging onto his every word.

"Very well," remarked the judge. "Now may the defendant please begin his case."

"Thank you, your honor." Peabody stood and took the podium, the words he had rehearsed so many times coming back to him. "According the Uniform Adoption Act of 1994 a fit guardian is an adult that has been favorably evaluated as suitable to adopt by an authorized agency. You'll find that I already meet these criteria. Before being summoned to court I was already thoroughly investigated and deemed fit by an agency. " The beagle then pulled a massive file out of his briefcase, placing it on the podium for the judge to see its considerable size.

"However I have submitted to the court the same documentation that was thoroughly processed and approved. This includes a thorough background check, health report, financial statement, and a considerable number of my more notable character references. In fact, your honor, I believe you will find a beautifully written recommendation written by one of the Supreme Court Judges herself." He allowed another pause for the inevitable intake of awe from the gallery.

"I believe all this evidence more than qualifies me as an adoptive parent, however, I also understand the need for a second opinion. For this I call the social worker of my case, Mrs. Clara Norton to the stand."

As he spoke, Clara stood up from her seat in the gallery and steadily made her way to the front of the courtroom. Upon reaching the stand, the county clerk was ready, holding out the Holy Bible for her. Once she placed her hand on it he began. "State your full name for the court please."

"Clara Elizabeth Norton."

"Do you solemnly swear that the testimony that you are about to give is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

"I do," she answered sincerely before smoothing out her skirt and sitting down at the stand.

"Mrs. Norton, Peabody began politely. "I would like to ask you to tell the court about your experiences working on this case over the past six months."

Nodding, Clara took a moment to compose herself before beginning her testimony. "Well, I was brought into this case completely blind to prevent bias so I didn't know what to expect when I met with my client Mr. Peabody. To say I was surprised at his appearance was an understatement. However, despite my doubts I have found him one of the most dedicated clients I have ever worked with…" Clara proceeded to give the courtroom a short summary of the many interviews she'd held with the genius and her assessment of his home and financial records. "I can think of no client more willing or prepared to raise a child than Mr. Peabody." She finished sincerely, her final statement directed towards the judge. Who nodded in acknowledgement, face still the epitome of neutrality.

"That will be all Mrs. Norton, thank you very much," Peabody beamed at her, once more feeling a surge of gratitude towards the social worker for her steadfast support. Once Clara was back in the gallery, Peabody turned to the judge, stating simply: "having provided the court with all my evidence your honor, I rest my case."

As he sat back down, Peabody's taunt shoulders sagged in relief. His argument had gone off without a hitch and Clara's testimony had been splendid. Now there was only Kithsman's opposing argument to worry about. And, if the proud attorney used the arguments Peabody anticipated he would, the case was as good as won.

"And now the plaintiff will have the chance to make his argument." Stated the judge, gesturing towards a very smug looking Kithsman.

"Gladly your honor," the man walked up to the podium with all the confidence of a performer on a stage.

"Despite the endorsements in his favor, the Child Protection Agency still feels that Mr. Peabody is hardly a fit person to raise a boy. This is in part because, legally speaking, he isn't a considered a person at all. Our great constitution defines a person as another human being, not a dog."

A series of hushed whispers flew through the courtroom at Kithsman's words, several members of the media writing it all down in their notepads. But Peabody had been expecting this.

"Objection your Honor!" the beagle cut in, standing up on his chair, paws folded neatly at his back. "I find this argument invalid on the grounds that I became a legal US Citizen years ago. To sustain this argument would be in direct contradiction with constitutional law. Unless you revoke my citizenship as well, you would be in direct violation of Article VI, clause 2 of the U.S. Constitution."

This stirred an even greater response from the gallery as they murmured among themselves, the noise slowly escalating.

The onlookers soon fell silent, however as the judge tapped his gavel on the bench. He then turned to Peabody, frowning as he mulled over the genius' words. "A very accurate statement Mr. Peabody. Very well, your objection is sustained." Peabody nodded and sat back down, trying exceptionally hard not to send a childish smirk Kithsman's way.

The prosecutor looked for a moment like he was sucking on a lemon, but recovered quickly. "Your honor, I would like to remind the court that while Mr. Peabody may be a citizen, that does not inherently give him the constitutional right to adopt." He smiled at the small murmur of agreement that rose from a few members of the gallery before continuing. "The Child Protective agency is deeply concerned about the sort of childhood Sherman would have without human interaction. After all, an infant's main method of learning is through observation and it has been proven many times that observational learning is both a pervasive and potent mode of social learning. If Sherman is to have a happy, healthy upbringing he must learn how to properly interact with his own species. The agency feels Peabody is ill-equipped to teach Sherman the nuances of proper human interaction that he, himself, does not naturally have."

Admittedly, it was becoming steadily harder to reign in his ever-growing irritation at Kithsman's continual jabs, but Peabody allowed the insults to wash over him just the same. Clara, it seemed, was finding it as difficult as he from the nasty glare she was shooting the back of the pompous attorney's head.

He then pulled out a few papers from his briefcase. "Over the years there have been a few select cases of humans being raised by animals and none of these feral children have ever become functioning members of society. I believe I submitted a case to the courts about a girl who was raised by dogs in the Ukraine…"

But Peabody had heard quite enough. "Objection your honor!" he stated, unable to prevent the bite in his tone. "This argument is completely irrelevant to the context of this case. I believe, with my many contributions to society, that I have proven both to this court and the world time and time again that I am vastly more capable of complex thought than my canine counterparts." He then proceeded to reach into his briefcase, pulling out a large file. "However, if I do need to clarify my intelligence once more I will. I have already submitted a copy of this information to the court. Enclosed in the file are several neurological tests I had made of both my brain and a typical canine brain. I believe you will find a considerable difference between the two."

Inwardly, Peabody was seething. He knew Kithsman was going to use the obvious species argument, but he hadn't predicted just how far and foolishly the ruthless attorney had taken it. The nerve of him, feral child cases indeed…

"There's no need Mr. Peabody," Stated the judge. "Your presence here in court today is proof enough of your intelligence. I am sustaining your objection. As for you Mr. Kithsman," he rounded on the disgruntled attorney. "If you have no further arguments..."

"Your honor!" Kithsman blustered, his haughty demeanor falling apart fast than his lackluster argument. "Regardless of his intelligence Mr. Peabody is still a dog! How can he be expected to raise a human child?"

"I believe I can answer that" came a voice from the gallery. Peabody turned to see Mr. Harris's tall, lanky form standing out amid the crowd.

"Mr. Harris I had intended to call you up to present your testimony," started the judge. "But you know the rules against members of the gallery addressing the bench. "

"My apologizes your honor," Mr. Harris started as he made his way to the podium, "I just wanted to make sure the best interests of the child in question are being considered."

After a moment, the judge nodded. "Alright Mr. Harris, as Sherman's guardian ad litem you may state your findings and evaluation in regards to the infant's best interests." Mr. Kithsman made a move to object, but the judge intervened. "Mr. Kithsman, please sit back down." He gave the belligerent attorney a long hard look before turning back to Harris. "Proceed…"

"Thank you, your honor." Harris smiled politely before continuing. "May it please the court, my name in Karl Harris and I am the representative of the child in question, Sherman, and will be advocating for his best interests. Having worked in the defense of minors for twenty five years I consider myself a very experienced officer of the law. However, I can honestly say I've never seen a case quite as unique as this one." Harris held himself at the podium with all the calm reassurance that only age and experience could bring. For once the gallery was completely silent as they took in his words.

"When I was brought into this case two months ago, I conducted all the research I could on the particulars and nuances of each argument. Like Mrs. Norton I have also had the chance to meet and thoroughly investigate Mr. Peabody. Now, I could tell you that Peabody easily meets the legal qualifications of an adoptive candidate, I could tell you that his financial records are sound, and that he has passed any and all the tests that have been thrown at him. All of the statements would be true, but I would just be reiterating what's already been clarified." He nodded slightly towards Peabody and Mrs. Norton, but his eyes were still fixed on the judge

"Instead, I choose to talk about the afternoon I spent with both Peabody and Sherman during one of his visits to the orphanage." He paused again before continuing, allowing the reporters to eagerly transcribe his testimony on their notepads.

"Deciding what is in the best interests of an infant is incredibly challenging. There are a wide number of variables to consider for a client who has yet to master object permanence let alone state his own opinion. However, when I saw Sherman's eyes light up the moment he saw Peabody enter the room, when I saw Peabody's incredible attentiveness to the infant, and when I saw the bond these two have formed even in this midst of a few short hours of visitation each week, I knew exactly what was in my client's best interests. That, your honor, is my evaluation." Mr. Harris sat down without a word, leaving a completely silent courtroom in his wake.

Unfortunately the silence didn't last long as a now furious Kithsman stood. "Regardless of all the evidence in his favor, this court has still yet to answer the question of whether a dog has any right to call himself a fit parent to a human boy!" With that, the gallery came back to life, a multitude of opinions streaming from the crowd.

"Order! ORDER!" the judge slammed his gavel on the bench, trying to quell the chaos Kithsman had created.

That's when Peabody saw his chance to use his metaphorical ace-in-the-hole. "Your honor, If I may," he began, pulling out yet another stack of papers from his brief case. "Seeing as the primary issue keeping us from resolving this case is the troublesome question of my species, I propose the court see this case in the context or a trans-racial adoption."

"What?! That the most ridiculous…" but Kithsman's words died in his throat as the judge stared him down. He then turned back to Peabody, obviously intrigued by the idea. "Please continue Mr. Peabody."

Peabody grinned, "Gladly, your honor. Given the circumstances of this case and my radical difference from the nature of other canines, I believe the only true differences between Sherman and I are merely based on appearance and culture, much like a trans-racial adoption." He calmly shuffled the papers, taking time to let the idea sink in. "Also, viewing this case as trans-racial rather than inter-species would allow the court to fall back on the precedents of previous court rulings."

Kithsman's eyes widened as he suddenly realized what Peabody was trying to do. "Objection your honor, I advise highly against this course of action-"

"Overruled!" interrupted the judge. "As for you Mr. Peabody," he stared down at the beagle thoughtfully. "Your idea has merit. For the remainder of this case the courts will view your status as a dog a race rather than a species."

Peabody beamed, his plan had worked perfectly. "Excellent! Now, if it pleases the court, I would like bring up the Multi-Ethnic Placement Act of 1994 which prohibits state agencies from categorically denying any person the opportunity to become a foster or adoptive parent solely on the basis of race, color, or national origin." He had effectively debunked Kithsman's last line of defense.

Finally having come to the conclusion that the beagle had been playing him the whole time, Kithsman turned a delightful shade of puce as he scowled in rage. "Well, he's still trying to adopt as a single parent and-"

"Marital status does not preclude an individual from adopting Mr. Kithsman," intervened the judge, an annoyed tone finally creeping into that impartial voice. "Now if you are quite done I will ask all of you to sit down and give me a few moments of deliberation before I reach my decision."

The full weariness hit Peabody as he sat back down, the months of sleepless nights finally catching up to him. It was almost over. After six months of grueling preparation, media attention, and painfully short visitations, the battle for custody was finally coming to an end. And it would all be worth it when he could finally take Sherman home for good.

A small touch to his shoulder brought Peabody back to the reality of the courtroom. Turning he saw Clara leaning over the bar, Mr. Harris at her side. "You were great!" she praised, grinning ear to ear. "I don't think that could've gone better if we'd wanted it to!"

"It was an excellent self-representation" agreed Harris with slightly more reservation. "But I suppose you are a genius so I should expect that."

The dog grinned humbly, his sleep-deprived mind trying to find the rights words to thank them. "Lately I've found my genius can only do so much when I'm so emotionally invested. Regardless of my representation, this case wouldn't have been nearly as strong without both of your testimonies. Thank you." He then fix his gaze on Harris. "Especially you, Mr. Harris, I-" But Mr. Harris simply held up a hand.

"I am an unbiased third party, Mr. Peabody. My testimony was not for you, it was for Sherman. I just wanted to make sure Sherman finds the home that suits him best." He responded warmly. "But you are welcome."

"Order! Order!" cried the judge over the din of the court room, the sound of his banging gavel catching everyone's attention. "I have come to my decision. However, I have on remaining question for the defendant. Mr. Peabody, if you would please step up to the bench."

Sending one last grateful glace towards Clara and Mr. Harris, Peabody took a deep breath and turned to face the bench.

It was almost over…

* * *

**And I think we all know where the movie picks up from there! (If you haven't seen the movie just watch the trailer. The Judge's question is in there.) Sorry to not cover Peabody and Sherman's reunion, but it was so beautiful in the movie I didn't want to screw it up with my writing... Anyway, up next is the final chapter: the epilogue! Thank you so much for sticking with this story for so long and please read and review!**

**Warmest Regards,**

**Katie**


	5. The Follow-Up

**Hello Warpers, and welcome to the final chapter of Peabody's Probable Adoption Process! This last chapter took WAY longer to write than I wanted it to, but I'm happy with the results! A big thanks and God bless to everyone who has followed this story, I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it! **

**Don't worry though; I'm not ready to disappear from the fandom just yet. I've got another story waiting in the wings. That, and I'll be occasionally adding one-shots to Of a Dog and His Boy.**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately I own no genius beagles or adorable red-heads. I do own a sweet social worker though...**

* * *

The sun shone down on the city of New York as a warm breeze whipped around the skyscrapers, bringing with it the promise of summer. All around budding plants poked through the concrete, reaching their leaves out towards the light.

Clara Norton relished the warm weather as she walked through the bustling city streets. It had been just too nice a day to catch her usual taxi.

She smiled as she neared her destination, looking up the large skyscraper to focus on the penthouse at the very top.

After she pressed the intercom button, Clara absentmindedly checked her watch. 3:00, she was right on time! The woman carefully readjusted the objects in her arms while she waited.

In one hand was her usual briefcase, but in the otherwise was a light blue gift bag, a plume of red tissue paper pluming out the top. Technically she was here on business. It was a social worker's job to conduct a three-month follow up on her client. Still, she couldn't just leave the birthday boy empty handed. Although there was no doubt in her mind his new father had already gone all out...

She was jolted from her thoughts are the intercom buzzed to life. Over the static she heard the happy, garbled sounds of an infant before Peabody's voice came through the speaker. "Oh, Hello Clara! Right on time as usual. Come on up! No, Sherman that is not a toy-."

Clara smiled to herself as she walked through the doors and into the elevator. As she slowly made her way to the top, she wondered how big Sherman must've gotten. After all, she hadn't seen the baby since the court case. It was hard to believe it had already been three months.

The media had had a field day when Peabody was legally granted custody of Sherman. A picture of Peabody making his way down the court steps with the smiling infant in his arms had circulated all over the globe. Both newspaper and talk shows alike had begged Peabody for an interview but he had, excusing the pun, doggedly refused. Finally to appease the press he agreed to one interview with Time magazine, but only because the journalist writing the story was a old friend from Harvard. Clara had read the article two months ago when it was first published. The interview had been conducted in Peabody's home and, much like the dog himself, was warm, poignant, and understated. When asked what he planned to do next the genius had simply stated: "I look forward to a wonderful new life with my son."

The elevator slowed and the doors swung open to reveal Peabody's home. As she walked into the foyer and peeked into the living room, Clara smiled when she saw the well -furnished home wasn't quite so immaculate anymore.

Late afternoon light shone in from the wall-to-wall windows illuminating the assorted baby toys, picture books, and blankets strewn over the white rug. The once polished hardwood floors now had a few telltale handprints from the sticky fingers of an infant. Contrasting the expansive dining room table was the small high chair sitting next to it. Occasional food stains from the baby's last meal splattered both the chair and any surface within a three foot radius. Even the regal grand piano in the corner had a diaper changing bag set on top of it. A few spare diapers and a tube of petroleum jelly were sticking out of the top of the bag like a bizarre floral decoration.

It was amazing how just a few things out of place could make the penthouse feel more like a home...

"Oh! I'm sorry Clara I didn't hear you come in." Clara turned to see Peabody walking out of the kitchen, balancing a giggling Sherman on his right hip.

Her eyes widened as she took in the smiling baby. Even in the three short months since she'd seen him, Sherman had grown so much. The infant was now almost half the size of Peabody. He no longer looked like the scrawny, neglected baby she'd seen in the orphanage. His brown eyes shone brighter behind the round glasses. His cheeks, more full and round, were a lovely shade of pink as he smiled.

"My apologies for the mess," the dog muttered self-consciously, picking up a blanket off the floor and placing it over the back of the couch.

But Clara waved him off, smiling. "It's alright. Looks like you've been busy with this little guy!" She cooed at Sherman, crouching down to meet the child's eye level. "Hey there Sherman! It's been a while since I've seen you!"

The baby drew back under her gaze, burying his face into Peabody's shoulder bashfully.

Peabody smiled at her apologetically before turning to the baby. "Sherman, you remember Ms. Clara don't you?" His paw rubbed the infant's back soothingly. "She's a very dear friend of mine and she worked very hard to let you stay with me." He lowered his snout to meet the baby's eyes. "Come on, why don't you say hello? just like we practiced, okay?"

Sherman turned back to look at her with curious eyes. "Lo" he murmured softly, waving his arm in a clumsy wave. He blushed as Clara clapped for him, smiling shyly at her encouragement.

"Very good!" Peabody praised. Sherman let out a high-pitched giggle as the dog nuzzled his cheek, all fear of the stranger in the room forgotten.

The woman laughed at Peabody's enthusiasm, marveling at the drastic change she now saw in the genius. She'd never seen him so open and happy.

"Here! Maybe this will help him warm up to me." She offered, reaching into the gift bag and pulling out a set of rainbow-colored stacking toys. "Happy Birthday sweetheart!" She told the infant as she held to the present for him father to take.

"Ooo!" Sherman eyes widened as he took in the brightly colored object, reaching out to touch the smooth surface.

Peabody took the toy in one paw, while trying to steady the squirming infant. "What a wonderful gift!" He exclaimed, allowing the Sherman to examine the toy while still keeping a firm grip on it. "What do we say to Ms. Clara Sherman?" He prompted lightly. "Thank you. We say thank you."

The baby looked at Clara and proceeded to babble nonsensically, waving his tiny arms for emphasis. His father grinned. "Close enough. We'll work on that one later I suppose..."

Peabody proceeded to place the infant on the rug next to his new toy. "Now why don't you play while Ms. Clara and I talk?" The baby garbled more gibberish at his request, but Peabody beamed all the same.

Clara giggled as she saw Peabody message his sore arm. "Getting a little big for you huh?"

"Yes well" Peabody gave her a self-effacing grin. "Let's just say it's a good think Sherman's learning to walk so quickly." His gestured to her usual spot on the couch

As she turned to sit, Clara noticed the half-finished cup of coffee sitting on the table. She frowned in confusion, knowing full well Peabody couldn't drink caffeine.

"Mr. Harris was kind enough to stop by a few hours ago." The beagle clarified, following her bemused stare as he sat down in on one of the chairs. "He just wanted to check up on Sherman and wish him a happy birthday. You could say he's grown rather attached to Sherman. Not that I blame him..."

Clara looked down in surprise as she felt something hit her leg. She looked down to see bright blue nesting toy at her feet. A few feet away she could see Sherman, his eyes darting nervously from her to the toy.

Slowly she picked it up and held it out to him, trying her hardest to smile reassuringly. "It's okay," she soothed. "You can have it back."

"Go on," the dog encouraged softly, placing a reassuring paw at Sherman's back. "Ms. Clara isn't going to harm you."

After a few moments of deliberation, Sherman got to his feet and toddled towards her cautiously, eyes never leaving her face. The minute his outstretched arms reached the toy, Sherman snatched it up and held it close. The infant nearly fell face first on the carpet as he scrambled back towards Mr. Peabody, hiding himself behind the dog's chair. Clara's heart ached as those brown eyes still stared at her from behind the chair's legs.

"Well done Sherman." Peabody encouraged. "See? Nothing bad happened. Ms. Clara is nice." Peabody reached down to ruffle the child's shock of vibrant red hair.

Sherman leaned into Peabody's touch, glasses falling crooked on his face as he pressed up against the dog's paw. Once reassured, the infant ventured back out from behind the chair and proceeded to play once more with the nestling toys. Peabody watched him fondly for a minute before turned back to Clara, an apologetic smile on his face.

"I'm so sorry about that," he sighed. "Sherman's still getting used to meeting people. That and..." The beagle shuffled uncomfortably. "I've found he hasn't had the best experiences with... woman caretakers."

Clara frowned as she thought of the Mrs. Hamish, the women she'd had the pleasure of meeting the day she'd accompanied Mr. Peabody to the orphanage during one of his visits. "No, it's alright. I understand. But he's going to have to learn that not all women are like that."

Peabody nodded fervently. "I couldn't agree with you more, and I'm hoping his interactions with you today will help negate this behavior. In fact..." He hesitated for a moment. "I was hoping you could help me with something."

Clara's eyebrows raised in surprise. In the time she'd known him Peabody wasn't one to ask for help. "Yes?"

"Could you please keep an eye on Sherman while I finish up dinner? It's almost done but I'm afraid I've been a bit behind schedule. Sherman's just started walking and he's been quite a handful. Besides..." The genius turned to glance a moment at the preoccupied infant. "I was hoping your presence might give him a more positive view of the female."

The woman bit her lip, thinking back to Sherman's previous interactions with her. "Are you sure that's the best idea Peabody? I don't think one positive experience with me is going to fix the 9 months he spent in that orphanage." Besides, she wasn't exactly a qualified child psychologist. She advocated for children, but, in all honesty she was probably better with the paperwork than she was with the children themselves. What could she possibly do?

"It couldn't hurt, either." The beagle insisted. "All things considered I think this is the best time to try it. I would just be in the kitchen and ready to come back in at a moment's notice..." He seemed to be almost reassuring himself more than her.

"Please Clara. Sherman's health is of the utmost importance to me and I don't want those nine months of neglect to have lasting effects in him," he turned to her earnestly. "I'm afraid this is an issue I can't fix for him, but I was hoping you could try."

Looking into Peabody's concerned eyes Clara found she couldn't say no. "Alright," she stated simply, "I'll try my best."

The smile Peabody sent her way almost quelled the bundle of nerves in her gut. "Splendid! Thank you very much Clara!" He then turned to Sherman, patting the baby's head affectionately. "Please be good for Ms. Clara now Sherman, I promise I'll be back in a few minutes." With that, the beagle began to make his way to the kitchen, sending his son one last nervous glance before turning the corner.

It took Sherman all of five seconds to realize his father wasn't there anymore. Anxiety gripped Clara's heart as a small whine began to build in the infant's throat.

"No, no, no! Please don't cry!" She begged. The woman lowered herself onto the carpet, and cautiously approached the baby. "Don't worry, you dad will be right back." This was, apparently the wrong thing to do. Sherman let out a whimper as she drew closer, searching frantically for his father and finding nothing. Seeing she was only making things worse, Clara stopped abruptly and drew back, giving Sherman some space. She sighed quietly to herself. This wasn't going to be easy.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the nesting toys she'd given him were lying only a few feet away. She was amazed to see that, in the relatively short time he'd been playing with the toy, Sherman had managed to place all the interlocking parts into their correct order. Most children his age needed at least few hours to piece together the puzzle. That was one smart baby…

Maybe she could distract him; take his mind off Peabody's absence. Clara picked up one of the baby toys on the rug, a small wooden box with assorted shapes cut out of the sides. "Look Sherman!" She exclaimed, tentatively pushing the box towards the baby. Sherman watched her warily from behind the chair he'd hidden behind. It was like drawing a scared rabbit out of its hole.

Well, at least he wasn't crying anymore. That was something right?'

Picking up a small-star shaped block, Clara made a show of inserting it into the star-shaped hole on the box. "Ooh! Isn't that neat?!" She felt so ridiculously stupid right now, but kept the grin plastered on her face all the same. "Why don't you try it?" She pushed the box a little closer to him and backed away.

Sherman let out a fearful squeak and drew back further, trying to make himself as small as possible.

Clara groaned and placed a hand over her eyes in frustration. What did she think that was suddenly going to work? This was hopeless. After twelve years as a social worker one would think she'd know a thing or two about children. They would apparently be wrong. Why did she think she could do this? She-

"KER-THUNK"

The sound of wood hitting wood brought Clara out of her thoughts. Cautiously, she peeked through her fingers, eyes widening at what she saw. Sherman had crawled up the box, brows scrunched as he stared at it in concentration. Then, quick as a flash, the baby picked up a square shaped block and slid it easily into the square hole, smiling at the satisfying klunk it made as it hit the bottom. Feeling her eyes on him, Sherman turned in fear, but Clara managed to put her hands back over her eyes just in time. Satisfied that he hadn't been seen, Clara listened intently as Sherman quickly toddled away, presumably back under the chair.

Suddenly, she felt something hit her leg. Opening her eyes the woman was bemused to see a triangle-shaped block at her feet. She looked up to see Sherman no longer looking at her expectantly. It took the social worker a moment to put two and two together.

Clara approached the box and slid the block into its adjoining slot before going back to her spot on the rug and covering her eyes. She smiled as she heard Sherman's small giggle and the thunk of another block hitting the bottom of the box.

Their strange game continued for a while, Clara making sure to cover her eyes each time Sherman emerged from his hideaway in order to give the child a small sense of security. Each time it was her turn to insert the block she would feel Sherman's eyes following her every movement. He was no longer looking at her in fear but fascination, like a little scientist observing a specimen. She grinned wryly. When did she become the experiment here?

"KER-THUNK!" The noise of wood hitting wood once more reached her ears once more. Clara listened expectantly for the sounds of Sherman toddling back to the chair, but frowned in confusion when none came. Instead, she was surprised to feel something warm brush up against her arm. Clara's breath hitched in her throat as she slowly brought her hand away from her face and opened her eyes.

Sherman's lopsided grin came to meet her. In the infant's outstretched hand there was a single, heart-shaped block.

Mr. Peabody's tail wagged anxiously as he put the finishing touches of cilantro and lemon juice on the Indian Tandoori Chicken he'd prepared for tonight's meal. The whole time he'd been in the kitchen his ears had been perked, ready to fly into the living room at a moment's notice. Still, things had gone a lot smoother in the kitchen without a baby underfoot, and so far there had been no wailing, screaming, or crying. That was a good sign right?

But what if Sherman wasn't ready for this sort of immersion yet? What if leaving him alone with Clara would just traumatize him further? The dog breathed deeply to calm his troubled mind, trying to shake off all these infernal doubts.

Peabody knew full-well from every psychology book he'd ever read that Sherman needed to spend some positive time with a woman if he was ever going to grow up in a good state of mental health after his experiences at the orphanage. And, as far as Peabody was concerned, Clara was the perfect women for this first experiment. Still, the feeling of being out of control was hard for Peabody to deal with.

Taking off his apron and hanging it up, the genius picked up the two plates of chicken for Clara and himself and the small bowl of mashed carrots and pureed chicken he'd prepared for Sherman. Peabody braced himself as he swung on the kitchen door, fully preparing himself for the worst.

What greeted his ears was Sherman's squeal of laughter as Clara's lifted the giggling baby high into the air before bringing him back down, and blowing a raspberry into his stomach. Sherman clapped his tiny hands together in delight, reaching his out his arms so Clara could lift him again. Peabody stared in utter amazement, unable to keep his jaw from dropping. This was a radical contrast from the shy, retiring infant he'd left just twenty minutes ago.

"Pea-baba!" Sherman cried enthusiastically the minute his eyes caught sight of his father. Clara looked up in surprise, blushing slightly at Peabody's stunned expression. "Hi there," She grinned bashfully while bouncing Sherman on one hip. "Um… Do you need any help with those?" she gestured to the plates Peabody was balancing precariously.

"Wha- Oh! Oh no I'm fine." He reassured, his wits finally coming back to him. "I take it your time with Sherman was a success then?"

Clara laughed, self-consciously fixing her now messy bun. "You could say that." She lowered a squirming Sherman to the floor. The moment his feet touched the ground the baby was toddling at full speed towards Peabody, catching the dog round the middle in a tight hug. "Pea-baba!"

Peabody smiled and returned his son's embrace. "I missed you too Sherman. Do you have a good time with Ms. Clara while I was busy?"

Sherman nodded enthusiastically, his glasses nearly falling of his face. He let out a string of garbled baby-talk in response, but both the woman and the dog were surprised when the name "Clawa" came tumbling out of the infant's mouth.

Again, Clara found herself floored by Sherman's incredible cognition. The child absorbed information like a sponge.

"Very Good Sherman!" Peabody beamed ecstatically. "Now what do we say to Ms. Clara for watching you?"

A string of more gibberish was his only reply.

Peabody sighed but smiled. "Mark my words, young man, one of these days I'm going to get you to say thank you!" He told Sherman playfully, ruffling the boy's messy hair. Sherman just smiled and laughed, relishing all the attention.

"Frankly, I'm just surprised he's picked up as much as he has" said Clara as she walked towards the table. "Peabody this looks incredible!" She exclaimed, looking down at the meal. "You didn't have to go to all this trouble!"

But Peabody just dismissed her concerns with a wave of his paw. "It's no trouble at all." He told her, walking up a small step stool to place a squirming Sherman into his high chair. "I've been meaning to try out the recipe anyway." Like the gentleman he was, Peabody held out her chair for her with a flourish before sitting down himself.

The orange sunset melted to violet night as the three shared their meal. Peabody regaled Clara with tales of his many expeditions and world travels, all the while trying to make sure at least some of Sherman's dinner ended up in his mouth and not his bib. Clara listened, but covertly she observed Peabody as he tended to the infant, smiling at the faces he wasn't aware he was making as he coaxed Sherman to eat the food. Mentally she was taking notes for the final report she needed to submit to the agency.

As far as she could tell Sherman had adjusted magnificently to his new environment. Peabody was stimulating his development, keeping him on a regular schedule, and providing him with the love and attention he needed. And, judging by his interactions with her today, Clara suspected any lasting effects the orphanage may've had on Sherman would be gone in no time. For all intents and purposes, Sherman was a normal, healthy baby and his new father was doing a splendid job.

As the night dwindled to a close and the last remnants of their meal had been put away, Clara and Peabody sat in the living room for their final interview, a pot of tea between them. A now sleeping Sherman was tucked into the crook of the dog's arm, a smile on his face as he nestled deeper into the dogs soft fur.

Peabody stifled a yawn as he hugged the Sherman close. It was then that Clara could see just how worn out the beagle looked.

So was the crash course in parenting as easy as you thought it would be?" She quipped, a smirk on her face as she recalled Peabody's comment of "how hard could it be?" during the trial.

Knowing exactly what she was referring to, Peabody sighed and shook his head. "Alright, alright. I suppose I can be a bit over confident at times," he admitted. "Truthfully?" His brows furrowed in thought as he searched for the right words. "It's probably one of the hardest things I have ever done."

He smiled earnestly as he continued. "When it comes to Sherman... I find I'm questioning my actions in ways I've never had to before. Every time I think I have everything figured out he manages to surprise me with something new. There are just so many variables..." he chuckled. "And not nearly enough sleep."

Clara laughed softly so as not to wake Sherman. "So I've heard. For all it's worth it looks like you're doing a wonderful job. I'll be submitting a very positive review to the agency on Monday."

"That's good to hear." He downplayed his response, but Clara saw the way his shoulders relaxed and how his eyes shone with relief.

Then, out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of the time on a nearby wall clock: 9:30. "Oh jeez..." She muttered to herself, "I'd better start heading out. I told my husband I'd be back by ten."

"Oh dear." Peabody glanced up at the clock himself. "And I was just going to tell you about my latest invention. I designed it for Sherman's birthday. I call it the WABAC and-"

But Clara politely held up a hand and he took the hint. "Of course. Another time perhaps. Besides..." He looked down at the slumbering infant his arms. "I believe it's someone's bedtime."

Clara quickly collected her briefcase and coat and headed for the foyer. Peabody was there waiting for her by the elevator.

"Thank you very much for joining us." Peabody, shook her hand gratefully. "And for all you've done these past months."

Clara's eyes crinkled as she smiled down at him "It was my pleasure."

"I do hope you'll keep in touch." He continued, trying to sound formal and failing miserably. "It's just that... Well Sherman's grown awfully fond of you..." He cleared his throat sheepishly. "As have I..."

Clara tried hard not to laugh at his obvious embarrassment, knowing this wasn't an easy thing for the genius to stay. Putting down her briefcase, Clara kneeled to meet his eyes, her lips whirled into a smile. "I'm sure I can find some way to check up on you too, what with the unorthodox nature of this case after all..."

He caught her drift instantly and grinned himself. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

The ding of the elevator sounded and the metal doors slid open. Clara took a few moments to peck Sherman lightly on the cheek before picking up her briefcase and turning to go. Bit before she hit the button the the lower floors, Clara had one last question she'd been dying to ask.

"Peabody?"

"Hmm?" He responded, turning back around to meet her gaze.

"Would you do it again?"

His brows arched in confusion.

"The media frenzy, the court case, the adoption..." She clarified. "Would you do it all again?"

He took a moment to consider her words. Then, as Peabody looked down at Sherman's slumbering form and held the infant close, a fierce look of resolve came to his face.

"Yes," he answered simply. "In a heartbeat."

* * *

**So there it is! My first finished multi-chapter fic! (sorry, but this is a big personal accomplishment for me). **

**What did you guys think of it? Bad? Good? Did the cuteness-factor overload your heart? Should I call an ambulance? Please be sure to read and review!**


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